Alone
by starry-oblivion
Summary: Leonardo ponders on why people sometimes feel the need to be alone during times of sorrow, and soon wonders whether or not we're ever truly alone.


She wanted to be alone, and I think that's what troubled me more than the tears.

I often saw her sitting on her back porch when I came for visits. Sometimes she was reading, sometimes she was writing. There were times when she was smiling for no reason other than the fact that she knew I was dropping by, and there were times when I caught her crying because she had a bad day and she didn't know if I would come over. In a way, it felt nice to know that she depended on me some days. I suppose I've gotten used to that.

When I asked her what was wrong, she flinched, not having seen me. Being a ninja does have its disadvantages, since I sometimes forget that I'm hiding in the shadows. It seemed as though she wished that she possessed this ability for herself, since she actually slinked away from me. I tried not to be hurt when she answered, "I just want to be left alone."

I stood there, trying to figure out what was going on in her mind. She was purposely averting her eyes and sat on her porch swing with her hands folded in her lap. Though I'm pretty good at discerning body language, I couldn't quite grasp where the problem lay. Despite the tears, she didn't look victimized or hurt; it didn't seem as though she was sick or tired, either. She just... didn't want to talk to me.

Usually, she gets uncomfortable when she knows I'm there and yet not speaking, and she'll look around to see what I'm doing. Though I stood there for a few minutes, she didn't do that this time. She just continued to keep her eyes fastened on her hands, occasionally twiddling her fingers and dragging her feet along the ground as the bench gently swung back and forth, seemingly of its own volition.

My throat was dry. Had I done something, perhaps? Did one of her friends find out about me? Did I inadvertently complicate her life? I took a step backwards before finally croaking out, "O-… okay. I… okay. I… I'll see you, then. Have a good night."

Though I'm still not sure, I think I might have seen her look up at me as I turned and quickly disappeared from view. It wouldn't surprise me; she's remarkably perceptive, and it certainly wouldn't take a genius to detect the wounded intonation of my voice. Still, she made no sound as I ran from her house, letting the silent night swallow me and my doubts.

I'm not an overly social individual. I can understand wanting to spend some time with myself, letting my mind quiet down as I ready myself for a meditative session or a long journey into an engrossing book. But… isn't it a natural inclination to seek out solace when you're upset? I can accept that human psychology might differ quite a bit from that of my own, but… what comfort can loneliness bring?

I jumped towards the roof of a Catholic church not too far away from her house. I sit there often after my visits with her. Somehow, it's always warm there. And I rather enjoy the smell of incense that seems to envelop the entire block. As I perched up on my favorite spot away from any possible prying eyes, I continued to wonder over what could have possibly been wrong with my friend.

After all… who would _choose_ loneliness? With only three other creatures such as myself in the world, I couldn't fathom any situation that would make me _want_ to be alone when I'm upset enough to cry. Alone in anger, perhaps. But it was clear that she was more sad than angry.

Perhaps, living in a world where it gets harder and harder to turn around without accidentally elbowing a human in the ribs, solitude is the only medicine for what ails most people. With the Christmas holidays being so close at hand, tempers have a tendency to flare at an astounding rate that would even make _Raphael's_ head spin. Ironic, since this is the time when people are supposed to wish one another "tidings of comfort and joy." In reality, all I see is a crowd of people tackling one another to get to the latest sale item, inwardly cursing their fellow man because he took the last seat on the bus.

_Huh_, I realized as I nestled further back besides the shadowy steeple. _And I wondered why she'd want to be alone? Considering that she works in retail, I'm surprised she's__ still coherent and not just a gibbering, raving mess. Still… she should know that I'm different from her customers. She didn't have to shoo me away as though I'm in the same category as-_

I immediately became distracted when I saw someone climbing the tree directly in front of me. Blinking in surprise, I rose to my feet, ready to either dart away or spring into action. Of course, I was more than a little surprised when I saw the object of my ponderings raise herself to sit on a large bough. She somehow caught sight of me and offered me a broad grin and a wave.

"How… how did you know I was here?" I asked her.

"You always come to the exact same place," she answered, "and sit in the exact same spot. I thought maybe you'd gone home, but considering how you left, I wouldn't put it past you to stay in the neighborhood. For a ninja, you're awfully predictable."

"I am not!" I countered. "You're just… intuitive, that's all."

"Call it what you like," she told me, reaching out towards me, "just help me over."

I automatically did as I was told, carefully keeping an arm around her even after she got her footing. I knew the church building was old, and I had never been up there with another person. It would be terrible for a shingle to give out from under her foot after whatever it was that had caused her earlier mood.

When I remembered how she brushed me off, I studied her face carefully. Though she wasn't exactly cheery, she did seem to feel better. I noted the pang of guilt that ran through me when I realized that I hadn't helped to alleviate her gloom. "So… are you… is it… what was…?"

"I'm fine," she interjected, seeing that I was stumbling over my words. I helped her walk towards the steeple that I had just been leaning against. As she cautiously lowered herself into a sitting position, she explained, "It was just one of those things, you know? Long day at work, winter doldrums, holiday stress; I'm just your typical, average, human being."

"Well, _I'm_ not," I told her. She looked up at me. I felt as though I were scolding her the way I reprimand my brothers when they do something foolish. I knew it was unfair, but I couldn't help my bout of petulance. "I'm not like the customers at work, the people on the street, the friends you frantically go out and buy gifts for. I'm different. And though that's been the source of plenty of grief over the years, I… I would have thought that that would've been enough to make me… I don't know. Not count when you said you wanted to be 'alone.'"

She was giving me an odd look, causing me to look away from her in embarrassment. Give me Foot Ninja. Give me Triceratons. Give me Agent Bishop. I can deal with them. A strange look from a young woman after an awkward situation? I don't deal too well with that.

"Leonardo, I'm not stupid, you know." Her words caught me by surprise, causing me to gape at her. "I _know_ you're different. That's why I usually turn to you before any of my other friends. I'm grateful for your uniqueness… but I'm even more grateful because I know that you're a good friend. You honestly do care about the people that you look after. So I know that no matter how many times I ask to be left alone, I'm never _actually_ alone. I'm always in your thoughts. Am I right?"

"Well…" I started. "Well, right-"

"There are people sitting in pews beneath us," she continued, looking down at the rooftop on which she was seated. "People who have faith in someone Up There looking out for them. Someone strong, intelligent, just… someone on whom they can always rely. And regardless of the aggravations they have to put up with, the fights they get into or the number of people they kiss goodnight before going to bed… they know they're never really alone."

I shifted uncomfortably. It wasn't so much the topic of religion that bothered me as it was the fact that she seemed to be likening me to a God-figure. As flattering as it might be, I still couldn't help the feeling that I was being associated with a vague and frightening "Other."

"Just because I ask to not have you physically with me," she continued in a quieter voice, "doesn't mean I don't know that you're always with me in spirit. And it definitely doesn't mean that I don't _need_ you there." She looked up at me again, and I couldn't tell if the smile was on her lips or dancing in her eyes. "And now that you know that, you'll never feel completely alone either. Because you'll know that I'm always there with you. Kinda creepy, huh?"

I said nothing for a moment. Her logic sounded vaguely like those old urban legends that proclaim that now that you know the ghost story, the ghost will begin to haunt _you_, too. However, I couldn't shake it off as just that. I knew better.

Master Splinter has often spoken about his Master Yoshi being with him "in spirit." He has also told us that even after his death, a part of him will always remain with us. It's what happens when someone dies while loving someone still living. If I can believe in that, then why can't I believe that a piece of someone will stay behind with a loved one, regardless of life or death? If this girl can believe that I care enough about her to leave a piece of my consciousness with her, then what makes me think that I can't believe in her love and friendship always keeping me company on some level?

"No," I finally answered. "It's not creepy. It's kind of… nice, actually." She gave me a sheepish grin as I moved to sit besides her. We were quiet for a long time before she finally spoke up, telling me the details of her rather horrendous day. I could see why she needed some time to compose herself before being able to tell the story. There was really nothing I could do to make her feel better… except be there with her. Whatever that meant, it was enough for her. And so it would have to be enough for me, too. Strangely enough, it was.

Ever since that night, whenever I sit on that steeple, I never feel alone.


End file.
